


taste of tea on the back of your throat

by wittylittleknitter



Category: X Company (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Leverage Fusion, F/F, M/M, Multi, Reunion Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-10 23:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4411604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wittylittleknitter/pseuds/wittylittleknitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, the reunion fic I forgot to post when the AU was still relevant.</p>
<p>Aurora Luft made her boys a promise. Once the war was over and it was safe, she would come find them. </p>
<p>Well, war's over, it's time to go find them.</p>
<p>May include full reunion at a later date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [myhomeistheshire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/myhomeistheshire/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I'm gonna be free and I'm gonna be fine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3977875) by [myhomeistheshire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/myhomeistheshire/pseuds/myhomeistheshire). 



> Special thanks to Amy (myhomeistheshire) for pestering me constantly for a solid month until i posted this. Actually, by now it's probably been more than a month.

She goes for Harry first.

“Excuse me,” she says when his parents open the door. “Is Harry in? My name is Évelyne—I'm a classmate of his—I just wanted to see if I could borrow his notes from today, I had a doctor's appointment and couldn't make it to class.”

She had cut her hair into a bob after the ends got burnt, and with a little bit of contouring with makeup, his parents  don't even recognize her.

Neither does Harry, apparently, until she speaks.

“Harry, it's me,” she says, standing on the doorstep of his parents' suburban Toronto house with her hands a little too tight on the strap of her purse.

“Oh, my god,” says Harry. He looks exhausted, and he's still got a hand on the doorknob, like he might slam it in her face.

_ Breathe, Aurora, _ she reminds herself as they stare each other down.

“Happy Remembrance Day,” she tries for a smile. It feels fake, though, so she lets it drop.

“Oh, my god,” says Harry again.

There's a long silence.

“I—the others! How are the others?” He asks quickly. “You've found them already, right?”

“No, I—I came for you first.” Aurora smiles again, and this time it feels much less fake. “You were the favourite child, remember?”

Harry laughs, and the sound makes her feels less alone again.

“I was the _only_ child.” His hand drops from the doorknob.

“Still the favourite.”

“I, can I, maybe, hug you?” He doesn't know what to do with his hands, wringing them and flailing them a bit and fiddling with the hem of his sweater, and god, he hasn't changed a bit, has he?

Aurora nods, and tries not to cry.

(She fails.)

***

Aurora hangs around  Toronto for the next month, drifting between hostels and visiting Harry whenever she can, until Harry's done his semester.

(“Just a month,” he had nearly begged. “Just stay until I finish my exams, then I'll go with you.”

Her original plan had been to go find the others and bring them all back (hopefully in time for the holidays ) but now that she 's here, she doesn't know if she can leave again alone.)

Neil is the easiest to track down. He's working as a cop in London again, so they find his address and put Harry's lock-picking skills to good use getting them in.

“Oh my god, Aurora, Neil got a _dog_!” Harry grins at the dog in question, who is making little excited noises at them. “Hello, beautiful, how are you?”

Aurora's in the kitchen, some time later, making the three of them a casserole, when she hears the door open.

“Neil!” says Harry, and she can tell he's smiling. “You got a dog!”

“What the fuck are you doing in my flat?” says Neil, very tensely.

“Uh, Aurora? Could you come out here...?”

Walking through the doorway, she's almost immediately got Neil's gun pointed at her.

“Jesus fuck, Neil, put that down,” she scolds, walking forward slowly.

The gun stays trained steadily on her.

“Neil, it's Aurora and Harry, we aren't here to hurt you, now _put the gun down._ ”

The gun lowers slowly.

“There we go.” Aurora smiles.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing in my flat?” Neil snarls.

“We came back!” Harry grins from the floor, the puppy worming its way out of his grasp to greet its owner. “Like we promised!”

Neil seems to sag.

“Come, sit,” Aurora offers. “I'm making casserole.”

***

They stay in London over the holidays, Neil giving his two weeks' notice and arranging care for his dog while they go find Tom and Alfred.

(“What's her name?” Harry asked after supper, resuming his position on the floor to play with the dog.

“Lucille the second,” Neil answers offhandedly, and before he's really aware of what's happening, Harry is pulling him into a tight hug.)

Tom is somehow harder to get a hold of, which seems counter-intuitive. He's a journalist in Nice with an official contact address but he works odd hours and seems to take the most complicated way home he can.

The only way they can find out where he lives is by tailing him amateurishly closely. Harry keeps humming some theme in 5/4 while they do so.

When they finally succeed at tailing him home, he appears to be throwing some sort of party, and so the three of them hide out in some bushes to decide their next move.

“Do... do we interrupt?” Harry whispers.

“What else could we do?” Aurora is squinting at the windows, trying to get a clearer picture of what's inside.

“We could try tomorrow?” Neil suggests. He's barely even looked at the house in the fifteen minutes they've been sitting in this bush. Aurora and Harry don't ask him to.

They try again the next afternoon, and end up knocking on an empty house.

It takes three more attempts to catch him, and every time they miss, Neil looks a little bit more desperate.

When Tom finally answers the door, it's mid-laugh, but it's cut off nearly instantly.

“No way,” he breathes.

“May we come in?” asks Aurora, instead of tackling Tom to the ground in a hug.

“Tommy?” calls a distinctly feminine voice from inside. “Babe, who's there?”

A pretty blonde comes into view, placing a hand on Tom's elbow gently.

Neil's face falls.

“Who's this?” she asks, smiling warmly at the three strangers on the doorstep.

“Just some old friends,” Aurora smiles back, subtly nudging her two companions so they do the same. “We were in town, and thought we'd stop by.”

“Come in!” The blonde pulls the door open wider. “Any friends of Tommy's are friends of mine, and there's plenty of tea to go around.”

***

The three of them sit together on a couch that isn't theirs. Harry won't stop fiddling with the hem of his shirt, and Neil's eyes keep flicking to the exits. Aurora busies her hands with a teacup.

“Guys, this is Estelle Lafontaine, one of my coworkers, and Pauline, my... my fiancée.”

Tom has to choke out the last word, and Neil looks like he wants to choke him.

“Pauline, Estelle, this is Aurora, Neil, and—”

“No way! This is them?” Pauline grins at them with bright eyes.

“—and Harry.” Tom finishes lamely.

“I've heard _such_ good things!” Pauline goes on, seemingly unaware of precisely how awkward it is in the room. “Tommy-boy's missed you guys something fierce.”

Tom gives Pauline a not-very-subtle cut-it-out gesture.

“Oh, really.” Neil deadpans.

“Yes! His family by choice, not by blood! Who used to live in Paris in an apartment that was too small and who he missed dearly.”

There's an extended pause. Aurora takes another sip of her tea.

“You told her about us?” Harry asks softly. He sounds a lot less outraged and a lot more touched than Aurora would have.

“Couldn't keep you guys off my mind.” Tom smiles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Idiot.” Aurora can't keep herself from smiling back.

Neil stays focused on the wallpaper.

Estelle seems to hover. “Tom,  _Pauline_ , is, is it—I, I mean, can we...?”

“Oh!” Tom jerks up to look at her. “Right, right, yeah, of course.”

Pauline grins, and reaches over to kiss Estelle hard.

Harry gives a shocked little gasp, which Aurora makes a mental note to make fun of him for later.

“Pauline and I's engagement is, let's say, _mutually beneficial._ ” Tom grins.

***

“Aurora, calm _down—_ ”

“Sinclair, I swear, if you don't tell me everything you know—”

Aurora knew being back in Camp X would be bad for her, but Harry, Tom, and Neil  don't have the clearance to be here with her legally (or even know where Camp X is, not that it stopped them from following her most of the way here) so she's got Harry's lucky pencil, a dog tag off Lucille II, and an empty bullet casing from Tom jangling in her pocket when she walks in, checks her gun at the door, and demanded to know everything they did about Alfred's status.

“Aurora, for the love of Christ!” Sinclair is snapping right back. “Everything's _classified_ , I _can't—_ ”

“Sir?” A HYDRA worker pokes her head into Sinclair's office. “If—I mean, I understand you're a very busy man, sir, but if you have a moment, I have an update on Agent Mockingbird...?”

Aurora is at the poor girl's throat in seconds. “Tell. Me.  _Everything._ ”

***

“We don't know what to do,” the nurse confessed. “He just mumbles about his “bijou”, whatever _that_ means.”

“Can I—” Aurora catches herself. “May I speak with him?” she whispers, staring at Alfred's bed further in the room.

The nurse gestures her forwards, and Aurora nods her thanks.

“Bijou?” Alfred mumbles, just barely in earshot. “Où sont mes bijoux?”

She almost doesn't believe it. It's the pet name from one of their early missions.

“Bijou?” Aurora whispers back. “Bijou, je suis ici, 's'qu'y a de mal?”

“Bijou, bijou,” he tries to grab at her hand, but in a way that makes her think he can't actually see where she is. “Bijou, je me suis perdu, tout seul sans savoir—les autres, mes bijoux, où sont les autres?”

“Ils sont ensemble, en sécurité, bijou, ne t'inquiète pas, nous t'attendons, bijou, et nous t'attenderons.” Alfred sags with relief, tension she hadn't even realised was there gone, and Aurora squeezes his hand.

“Je veux les voir, mes bijoux,” His eyes seem to be having trouble focusing. “Bijou, bijou, je veux les voir—”

“Luft!” Sinclair storms in. “Luft—Aurora, you can't be in here, he's not _stable,_ you could _set him off—_ ”

“No!” calls Alfred, reaching for Aurora's retreating hand. “Please, no, please, bijou, let her stay, s'il vous plaît, elle me manque, reste, stay, reste, Aurora, please, Aurora—”

The nurse stops Sinclair. “Sir, with all due respect, this is the most responsive and lucid he's been in weeks. In my professional opinion, the girl ought to stay.”

Alfred is still trying to reach for Aurora and sit up at the same time, though he's stopped trying to talk at the same time.

Aurora tugs her arm from Sinclair's loosening grasp.

“Je ne reste pas longtemps, bijou,” She tells Alfred gently. “Mais la prochaine fois que je viens, j'apportera notre famille, okay?”

Alfred nods softly. “Reste encore un temps?”

Aurora smiles. “They'll be happy to know you're alive. We've been worried.”

“They, did—did all...?” Alfred reaches for her hand. Aurora squeezes it gently.

“We're all fine.” Aurora promises, smoothing down some of Alfred's hair.

“You were right!” Alfred calls after as she walks out. “You were right, and I should have listened.”

 


	2. English translation!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, remember how I said I would post the translation the day after? Yeah, it's nearly three weeks later, and I had completely forgotten. Here you go!

“ We don't know what to do,” the nurse confessed. “He just mumbles about his “bijou”, whatever  _ _ that  _ _ means.”

“Can I—” Aurora catches herself. “May I speak with him?” she whispers, staring at Alfred's bed further in the room.

The nurse gestures her forwards, and Aurora nods her thanks.

“Jewel?” Alfred mumbles, just barely in earshot. “Where are my jewels?”

She almost doesn't believe it. It's the pet name from one of their early missions.

“Jewel?” Aurora whispers back. “Jewel, I'm here, what's wrong?”

“Jewel, jewel,” he tries to grab at her hand, but in a way that makes her think he can't actually see where she is. “Jewel, I've lost myself, all alone without knowing—the others, my jewels, where are the others?”

“They're together, and safe, jewel, don't worry, we're waiting for you, and we will wait for you.” Alfred sags with relief, tension shehadn't even realised was there gone, and Aurora squeezes his hand.

“I want to see them, my jewels,” His eyes seem to be having trouble focusing. “Jewel, jewel, I want to see them—”

“ Luft!” Sinclair storms in. “Luft—Aurora, you can't be in here, he's not  _ _ stable, _ _ you could  _ _ set him off— _ _ ”

“No!” calls Alfred, reaching for Aurora's retreating hand. “Please, no, please, jewel, let her stay, please, she's missing from me, stay, stay, stay, Aurora, please, Aurora—”

The nurse stops Sinclair. “Sir, with all due respect, this is the most responsive and lucid he's been in weeks. In my professional opinion, the girl ought to stay.”

Alfred is still trying to reach for Aurora and sit up at the same time, though he's stopped trying to talk at the same time.

Aurora tugs her arm from Sinclair's loosening grasp.

“I'm not staying long, jewel,” She tells Alfred gently. “But the next time that I come, I'll bring our family, okay?”

Alfred nods softly. “Stay a little longer?”

Aurora smiles. “They'll be happy to know you're alive. We've been worried.”

“They, did—did all...?” Alfred reaches for her hand. Aurora squeezes it gently.

“We're all fine.” Aurora promises, smoothing down some of Alfred's hair.

“You were right!” Alfred calls after as she walks out. “You were right, and I should have listened.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the French. I figured why not? (For anyone trying to google translate that mess, 's'qu'y a is actually supposed to be written as qu'est-ce qu'il y a, but is often slurred into a mess that I wrote as 's'qu'y a, loosely pronounced as ski-uh, emphasis on the sk sound.)  
> I'll post a translation of that segment probably tomorrow (24 July).
> 
> Harry's 'some theme in 5/4 is actually the Mission Impossible theme (anachronistically), which is in the very distinctive 5/4 time signature. If you want me to blab at you about music, my tumblr is currently the very creative alfred-graves.


End file.
